Kyra

I stare at my conversation with this Stephan Drake person for what feels like the millionth time. This is so unreal. I switch pages and look at my followers again. Freaky unreal. Six followers. Six followers. It's so pathetic and lame, but at the same time, it's amazing. Like, no one who knows me knows I have this account... that's only kind of the whole entire point... and yet six people have somehow not only found it but cared enough to follow it, in less than a week. And then there's this Stephen fellow. Who actually cares. And I honestly don't know why.

I shake my head slowly, forcing myself to switch my phone screen off and focus. If he's looking forward to my first video for some weird reason, I'll give him my first video.

I pick up my laptop from under the black leather futon that's my bed, then stand and move to behind the futon, where I keep my ancient keyboard, cheap guitar, and, most importantly, my song journal. I switch the laptop on and set it aside to boot up, kneeling to retrieve my microphone from its box. I hesitate, my eyes locked on the other things that inhabit the small, wooden container. The pair of manicure scissors that are sometimes my only lifeline, and a tiny bottle of ibuprofen pills. I don't know why I even have them. It's not a big bottle, and it's less than half full. Not nearly as many as I'd need. But it's a start...

I shove the thought away, replacing the box's lid and rising. Get your head out of the clouds and focus.

I plug the microphone into the laptop and double-click on my recording program. While that opens, I carefully drape the microphone over the shelf that truly makes this place a little area of it's own, trying to find that perfect spot for it pick up my keyboard's notes with as much quality as possible. I straighten the keyboard itself, where it rests with one corner on a level of the shelf and the other on the back of my futon, make another minor adjustment to the mic, and turn back to my laptop.

I check the corner for the time first. 2:47 AM. Perfect. My family should be sound enough asleep by now that, seeing as I'm the only one who has a room in the basement and it's not under anyone, I won't wake them.

I never had any kind of music lessons, but I've been able to teach myself to play the keyboard and the guitar okay. I don't read music, but I understand chords, which is how I write it. And I can learn songs off of those same chords.

Tonight's is "Priceless", by for KING & COUNTRY, except I rewrote the words to be from the POV of one of the girls they're talking to instead. Aka, my point of view. I honestly don't believe the song... they haven't seen my mess... but it still has gotten me through a way lot, and they, along with Colton Dixon and a number of other artists, are still some of the best people to ever walk the face of the planet. And Lance. I smile slightly at the thought of my favorite youth leader. Definitely Lance.

I can't believe I'm actually doing this. I've thought about it for so long, and now it's finally happening. It's probably one of the stupidest ideas of my entire life... putting myself out there like this. But I just can't survive like this anymore. I'm so sick of lying and faking it.

I start with the piano track. It took me a while to get this down so I really liked the way it sounded, especially out of this keyboard that's literally older than I am, but it finally happened. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and click record. With my hands back on the keyboard, I let everything else fade and start the intro.

Before I know it, I'm done.

I stop recording and pick up my headphones, which are connected to the computer via Bluetooth, some of the rare ones that will actually work with my laptop. I listen to what I recorded once through, making sure I don't need to redo it, but it sounds good to me, so I resituate the mic so that it's level with my mouth instead.

Deep breath. And again. I can do this. I run through the vocal warmups I learned from an app on my phone briefly, then look back at the computer. I straighten my headphones and press record. The sound of the keyboard track I just laid down reaches my ears after a long moment, and I close my eyes, getting ready for the end of the intro. Don't think. Just feel it.

Mirror, mirror, mirror on the wall.

He says they're only lies, but aren't they really flaws?

Says, "That isn't who you are. That isn't who you are."

And yes, it's hard to hear, when you call me dear,

And say, "If you could see what I could see, I know you would believe,

"That isn't who you are. There's more to who you are."

But, yeah, it's late, I'm wide awake, too much to take.

Says, "Don't you dare forget that in the pain, you can be brave."

Says, "Hear me say...

"I see you dressed in white, every wrong made right."

Says, "I see a rose in bloom, at the sight of you."

(But I'm not priceless)

Says, "Irreplaceable, unmistakable, incomparable, Darling, it's beautiful."

Says, "I see it all in you."

(But I'm not priceless)

He says no matter what I've heard, this is what I'm worth—

More than all the money, all the diamonds and pearls.

Says, "This is who you are. Yeah, this is who you are!"

But, Joel, it's late, I'm wide awake, too much to take.

And, Luke, I still forget that in the pain, I can be brave.

Says, "Hear me say..."

"I see you dressed in white, every wrong made right."

Says, "I see a rose in bloom, at the sight of you."

(But I'm not priceless)

Says, "Irreplaceable, unmistakable, incomparable, Darling, it's beautiful."

Says, "I see it all in you."

(But I'm not priceless)

Says, "Sisters, we can start again, give honor til the end. Love, we can start again."

Oh.

But, Brothers, can I start again? It feels like it's the end. Says, "You can start again."

"I see you dressed in white, every wrong made right.

"I see a rose in bloom, at the sight of you."

"I see you dressed in white, every wrong made right."

Says, "I see a rose in bloom, at the sight of you."

(You say I'm priceless)

Says, "Irreplaceable, unmistakable, incomparable, Darling, it's beautiful."

Says, "I see it all in you."

(Oh, so priceless)

I press stop and stare at the screen for a long moment. I just did it. I actually just did it.

I mute the instrumental track so that I can just listen to the vocals to check for mistakes. When I'm satisfied, I put the mic away and turn the keyboard off, then return to my bed... couch... thing... to mix the two tracks. Half an hour of adjusting volumes and tiny things on what's in what ear and trying to get them to fit together as well as absolutely possible, and I'm finally ready. I order the computer to mix and render them into one track. When it's done, I listen to it again.

And I feel shock wash over me. I sound... I sound good. If I found this on YouTube, I'd be impressed.

You sound like a dying pigeon.

I hate myself.

Whatever. It's fine. I export the file.

I grab my phone and go the picture I already made to put up with the audio, just one of the only selfies I've ever taken, with an overlay so you can't see the main part of my face and a filter to mess with the color, and, of course, Sky Lance in fancy font. I quickly add the name of the song and save it in a new photo. I upload that to Google Drive, and it's back to my laptop, to my video editing program. That part's not hard. Just slap the audio I just dealt with on, retrieve the picture from the Drive, and set it to be up for the entire time. And, export.

Finally, it's to YouTube, to upload the video, and go through that whole process, put on fifty billion tags, and write a description. I make that brief while saying what I want to say.

Thanks for checking out my cover of for KING & COUNTRY's amazing song, "Priceless", which I rewrote to be from my pov as I listen to them tell me all of those things that are so incredible, but so hard to believe. This song means so much to me, and I was hoping to communicate that in this cover, as well as how grateful I am for amazing people like Joel and Luke, whose music is always there for us. Speaking of which, I own nothing... all rights for this song go to for KING & COUNTRY. To anyone reading/watching this, I love you, and thank you so much. -Sky

Am I seriously done? Holy cow. I don't think I'm ready for this.

But the video is. All that's left now is to click that daunting publish button. This is more than the Twitter account. More than the blog. This is putting myself out there like never before. And I'm terrified. But I promised Stephen. So, with one more deep breath, I click publish.